Page 86 of Pucked Around and Found Out

I blink, surprised by her bluntness.

“That's complete and utter bullshit,” she continues, her voice hard. “You want me to believe you were born a monster? Fine. But I've seen you, Xaden. I've seen the way you look when you think no one's watching. The way you touched me like I was something precious. The way you choose to protect me but say it’s because you are the only person who gets to kill me. Share my misery in pain but it’s all lies.”

Heat floods my face—anger and something else I refuse to name.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I lie.

“Yes, you do.” Her voice is certain. “You're not the monster you pretend to be. You're just a man who's too scared to admit he wants something other than revenge. You’re terrified to open your heart again because you fear losing someone else you care about.”

“You want to know the truth about who I am?” I snarl, standing back up. “I don't regret torturing your father. I don't regret killing Meekan. I don't regret any of it, because in this world, there are no innocent people. Everyone has blood on their hands. Everyone deserves what they get. Your brother will get the same treatment when he arrives.”

“Including me?” she challenges. “Including your baby?”

“That thing inside you is a complication,” I say coldly. “A mistake I told you to fix.”

“Stop calling our baby a thing!” she screams, and the raw pain in her voice actually makes me flinch. “It's a child, Xaden! Your child! And you can pretend you don't care all you want, but I know better!”

“You know nothing⁠—”

“I know you're scared!” She cuts me off. “I know you're terrified of losing someone else so you push everyone away first! I know you lie awake at night thinking about Emery, Miles and Neave! I know you blame yourself for not being there when they died!”

“Shut up⁠—”

“I know you want this baby even though it terrifies you!” she continues, her voice rising. “I know you want me even though you think you don't deserve me! And I know you're standing here trying to decide if killing Cas will make the pain stop or if it'll just add to the guilt that's eating you alive!”

“Shut up!” I roar, and the sound echoes through the rink like a gunshot.

Silence falls.

We stare at each other, both breathing hard, both refusing to look away.

“You don't get to psychoanalyze me,” I say, my voice dangerously low. “You don't get to pretend you understand what I've been through. What I've lost. What I've become.”

“Then tell me I'm wrong,” she challenges. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel anything for our baby. For me. Tell me you're completely numb, empty and dead inside.”

I open my mouth to do exactly that.

But the words won't come.

Because she's right.

God help me, she's right.

I do feel something for the baby. For her. Things I have no business feeling. Things that make me weak and vulnerable… and fucking human.

And I hate it.

I hate that she can see through my walls. That she refuses to accept the monster I present to the world. That she keeps pushing and prodding until she finds the cracks in my armor.

“I’m giving you one chance to move,” I say instead, my voice hollow. “After that, I shoot through you to get to him.”

“No, you won't,” she says, but this time there's less certainty in her voice.

“Try me.”

For a long moment, we're locked in a stalemate.

Then Cas speaks, his voice rough with pain.